


Praised Be the Emperor

by LMsExistentialDread



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Listen this is 40K setting you can't expect anything healthy to come out of it, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Size Difference, healthy dose of self-loathing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19852033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMsExistentialDread/pseuds/LMsExistentialDread
Summary: In the Immaterium, no-one expects the Inquisition coming.Now that we have the bad pun out of our way: a short two-parter PWP with a touch of self-loathing starring Ordo Malleus Inquisitor and Grey Knight.





	Praised Be the Emperor

**Author's Note:**

> Size difference: depending on the sources, Astartes aka Space Marine is 2,2-2,7m high and weighs from 250kg to 300kg. Now, Bro, don't come at me with Lore: I'm having fun.

On the fifth day in the Immaterium, the Inquisitor barges into personal quarters of his squad commander – such is the privilege of his, and such is the privilege of the giant of a man who sits cross-legged on the ground in naught but his loincloth.

“Out.” Gabriel barks at the serf who runs out with her eyes cast down clutching bundles of cloth to herself.

It feels like filth crawling under his skin, feels like it, and the worms burrowing in his flesh are real. The silence thrums when the door closes behind the woman.

“Does Lord Inquisitor require companionship?” The voice carries an echo of disdain. Gabriel inhales sharply, his teeth clench under the impassionate scrutiny the gaze of the Astartes affords him.

“Yes.” The humiliating nature of the admission grounds him. The abominable insects crawling under his skin are real, too real, all the prickling and all the gnashing, and all the thrashing.

“Strip.” The first are the gloves, the coat and the shirt follow the suit, and when he finally stands naked he’s already hard with his obscene need and weak spirit. The Astartes loosens his loincloth and moves the fabric aside.

The man is a living promise of mankind’s potential to be unlocked under the guidance of the Emperor; the godlike body marked gloriously with scars of uncountable battles survived and won against the true enemies of the humanity. Pure strength and perfection tempered in the fire of submission to the higher will.

Gabriel’s eyes stop between the Astartes’ thighs, and he takes in the sight of the member nestled between them, small in size in comparison to the rest of the man, but the instinctual clench and the apprehensive twitch of his lips bare the lie of the proportions he knows intimately. He salivates like a bitch in heat.

The Astartes inclines his head, and Gabriel comes forward; he falls to his knees between the man’s legs – the skin under his fingers is warm and unyielding, layered over implanted purity seals. How insignificant his palm appears against the thigh it rests on. Gabriel leans further and slowly licks along the length of the flaccid penis, then moves to take it into his mouth. The acrid and musky smell sends a shiver down his spine.

The Astartes grunts shortly and stirs. He grabs Gabriel’s wrists and pushes his arms away to his back, and with the iron grip of one hand locks them both there. Gabriel’s shoulders flare up with a sharp pain at the angle. The other hand lies lightly on his scalp for a moment, enormous and patient, fingers buried in his hair; the same fingers that could easily crush his skull between them, and would do so with no hesitation at the slightest hint of the taint.

Then, the push comes to shove, and Gabriel chokes shortly. The message is clear. With his nose buried in short pubes, he starts to work his tongue with the narrow range of movement he is allowed. The member between his lips slowly engorges, and the Inquisitor slackens his jaw as he feels it grow and slip into his gullet. The head hits the back of his throat and he gags, spit slowly trickling down his chin. With each backward motion, he feels his cheeks pull inward.

Gabriel keeps his eyes cast down and half-closed, if only to avoid the disinterested and judgmental gaze of the Astartes who knows his secret shame so well – and the awareness of that forces a lewd grunt out of him.

It is in this moment the hand buried in his hair grips and rips his head away – a string of spittle stretching from his swollen lips to the head of the Astartes’ erect penis. Gabriel gasps for air with his throat arched and unguarded, his eyes searching the face of the man above him for any hint of emotion, and there is none. His wrists are released from the vice-like hold, and, with fresh pangs of pain of the joints slipping back into proper places, he blindly finds the Astartes’ knees. Slides his fingers forward and down until he has purchase against the hard muscle on the inside of the man’s thighs. Only then does the grip on his hair disappear but Gabriel holds the position for seconds slowly trickling by.


End file.
